“Good, because I didn’t try too hard.” I’m just wearing jeans and a gray t-shirt. Bare feet. The rest is pretty cute, though.

She dips a piece of celery in the peanut butter and bites down on it. It’s loud and crunchy and obnoxious.

“Are you only planning to eat loud food?”

“Yes. Noise barrier.” There is a knock on our front door, and Hannah scoops up an armload of snacks. “That’s my cue to make like a tampon and get out of this hole.”

Why is she like this? Seriously. Why? “Hannah, could you not?”

She sticks her tongue out, nudging her bedroom door open with her hip. Dumps the contents of her arms on her desk then winks at me, closing the door.

I hear it lock, as though I’m the one who needs corralling.

Nervously, I pat down my hair. Wipe my sweaty palms down the denim covering my thighs, take a deep breath, and open the door.

Hands shoved in his pockets, Abe stands bashfully. Almost shyly, he eyes the ground when I greet him, and it’s obvious he’s embarrassed.

“Come in.” I give way so he can enter. He follows me to my room, walking to my bed and sitting on the edge of it. Stands.

Sits.

Stands.

I’d laugh if he didn’t look like he was going to throw up.

“Skylar, I’m so fucking sorry.”

I know he is, but, “For which part?”

He finally raises his head, lifting his chin to look me in the eyes. There is a dark crescent beneath his right one, purple and blue and yellow at the edges.

“Abe, what happened to you?”

“I had a date with JB’s right hook.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means he punched me in the face.”

“What? Stop it—he did not!”

“Twice.” Abe’s giant hand rises, finger tapping a line along his jawline. That, too, is bruised.

I go to him, lifting my hand, the tips of my fingers hovering just over his skin. “Does it hurt?”

“Like a sonofabitch, but not as bad as I thought it would.”

“Why would he hit you?” JB might be pompous and arrogant, but he doesn’t strike me as the fighting type. Then again, I’ve been wrong about people before.

“He was pissed when I told him about us then he made a wisecrack, and we started arguing, and…he slugged me.”

That is madness. “Are you being serious right now? Has he lost his damn mind? We went on one lousy date.” And it sucked.

Abe’s smile is wry, and when his mouth curves, he cringes. “It was two lousy dates, but who’s counting?”

He is.

Adorable.

“That first date didn’t count—it lasted less than ten minutes and he acted super weird.”

“Okay. If you don’t want to count that first date, we won’t count it.”

I don’t want to count it; it was shorter than my ninth grade homecoming date.

“So tell me more about this fight you had. I’ve never actually seen a guy with a black eye.” I desperately want to touch it but don’t want to hurt him.

Dropping my hand, I also lower myself to the bed and sit, watching him do a short pace back and forth beside me.

“Does he feel bad?”

“I don’t think so. He was drunk when he did it, and he’s still sleeping so he hasn’t actually seen it yet.”

“How can he still be sleeping? It’s like five p.m.”

“I know, but he’s really fucking hung over. Sorry. I mean super hung over.”

It’s sweet that he filters himself with me, though he doesn’t have to. I don’t need him to change; I just need him to show me some respect.

Which is why we’re here.

“I also think he might have been a little high, but don’t tell anyone I said that.”

I won’t. I would never.

“I thought athletes were given random drug tests.”

“We are. Apparently he just doesn’t give a flying fuck.”

“What happens if they test him and he fails?”

“It’s not likely, but if he did fail, he’d get suspended from the team and his parents would have one hell of a time trying to get him out of that mess.”

I bite down on my lower lip, chewing in concentration. “He was seriously high? Dang.”

Abe nods, still standing in the middle of my bedroom, taking up most of the space and looking foreign and big—but like he belongs here. With me.

“I think so. I guess he could have just smelled like pot, but I doubt it. I think he was smoking it. He wouldn’t have hit me if he’d just been drunk. Or sober.”

I rest back on my elbows. “Have you ever smoked pot?”

“Me? No. Never been tempted. Since we get tested for wrestling, I don’t know what the fuck JB is doing. Pardon my French, didn’t mean to cuss.”

I wave him off. “I’ve never tried it either. I have a heart murmur, and it would freak me out not knowing how my body would react.” I pause. “It’s on my dad’s bucket list though.” Laugh. “He wants to smoke it.”

“That’s…an interesting thing to have on your bucket list.”

I shrug. We’re not here to talk about my father; we’re here to talk about Abe asking me to climb out a window to avoid confrontation.

I cross my legs and dangle a foot. “So.”

Abe stops pacing, faces me, rooted to the carpet. I almost expect him to drop to his knees to beg for forgiveness. Instead he raises his arms and hooks his hands behind his head.

“I don’t know what I was thinking asking you to…” He waves a hand around. “You know.”

I want him to say it, so I raise an eyebrow.

Just one.

He gets the hint. “I’m sorry I asked you to hide when JB came home. It was wrong and insensitive and really fucking stupid.” He sucks in a breath. “I’m an idiot.”

“Okay, let’s not go down a shame spiral—we’re both human and we both make mistakes.” I think for a second, gathering my thoughts. “You just need to know that it wasn’t okay. It made me feel used. I know you’re not ashamed of me, Abe, and I know you weren’t ready to tell him, but I don’t want to be hidden away, either. That’s not what I signed up for.”

He blows out a puff of air. Rakes his fingers through his beautiful, thick hair. “I know. The thing is, when I was lying to these girls—to you—I didn’t consider it lying. The LoveU account is Jack’s, and Jack was going on the dates and had the final say in who he went out with. So I didn’t really think I was doing anything wrong.”

That kind of makes sense in a really messed-up way.

“It’s really freaking hard to be honest with him. Everyone babies the kid—our coaches, his parents, me. He doesn’t do shit around our place, puts in just enough work not to get his ass kicked during every match. I have no idea how he’s even still on the team.” Abe squats in the center of my room then lowers himself to the carpet, sitting with his legs out in front of him in the middle of my floor. “How did you know something wasn’t right?”

“You mean how did I know you were lying? I didn’t. The whole situation just seemed weird. JB was so attentive and fun on the app—well, you were. Then in real life, he was just so blah, as boring and uninterested as a human could possibly be. It made zero sense.” I poke his calf with the toe of my foot. “I wonder how many girls thought he was a weirdo but didn’t say anything.”